Amuse Bouche

Braised monkfish (or really any fish you want)

I know braise is probably the last word you think of when the mercury is climbing and the dewpoint makes the simple act of getting dressed a sticky event, but trust me on this one you want to make this.
First the braise only takes 20 - 25 minutes...tops.
Second it's based on a recipe Molly Stevens fabulous, award winning, cookbook All about Braising
Third you use boatloads of cherry tomatoes and pretty soon people we will be AWASH in cherry tomatoes so read on and tuck this one away in your little mental file cabinet.

The other beautiful thing about this recipe is that you can chose any nice whitefish you like to braise, or, dare I say it, skip the fish and just toss this heavenly sauce with some pasta, add a salad and a good loaf of crusty bread and mmmm, maybe a nice COLD glass of rose and dinner is done.

Braised Monkfish with Fennel and Cherry Tomatoes

3 ounces pancetta or guanciale, diced
1 fennel bulb, cored, sliced or diced or however you like it
A good pinch of crushed red pepper and if you are in this house, an additional pinch of aleppo pepper because it makes everything taste good
1 pint cherry tomatoes, rinsed
5 cloves garlic, peeled, sliced
5 or 6 basil leaves, rolled like a cigar and cut in thin strips (chiffonade if you are so inclined)
1 monkfish tail (yes, I know, endangered, non-sustainable, but my local monger had it and someone had to buy it)
1/2 cup orzo
Extra virgin olive oil
kosher salt and freshly ground pepper

Saute the pancetta or guanciale in 2 TBS olive oil until it is just crisp.  Remove and drain, reserve.  Add the chopped fennel and 1/4 cup water, stir, sprinkle with some salt, put the lid on and cook on low heat about 10 minutes or until the fennel is soft. 

Add the tomatoes, the pinch of crushed pepper and slap the lid back on.  Shake the pan a few times, walk away for 5 minutes and get your fish ready or start your water for your pasta or read a few pieces of mail. 

When the tomatoes begin to burst, add the garlic, 2 or 3 more TBS of water, the reserved pancetta, and put the lid on again.  Cook for 5 minutes. 

If using the monkfish, make sure the thin layer, like silverskin, has been removed, rinse your fish, pat dry, sprinkle with salt and pepper on both sides. 

Heat up a nice skillet with 2 TBS of oil and quickly sear your fish on each side, 2 - 3 minutes. 

Nestle the fish into the pan with your lovely braise, taste the sauce for seasonings and add salt and pepper if desired. 

Cover again and cook 5 - 8 minutes or until monkfish is cooked though.

Add your basil and serve. In my case on a bed of orzo tossed with some extra virgin olive oil.

Pesto to light up your winter months

Here in New England seasons often change in the blink of an eye.  We had all been getting used to a lovely warm September, warmer than usual, and probably thinking that we would be basking in the glow of colourful sunsets and still wearing shorts and sandals until December.  Ah, the joys of global warming.  Alas, along came October. 
It started raining on the 1st and it hasn't stopped yet.  Along with the rain about the second or third day came the cold.  I had already started filling the greenhouse with my plants that live in its warmth all winter, the rosemary, my bonsai olive tree, jasmine, mandavilla, miniature pomegranate trees, bay tree, two blue plumbago, three pots of lemongrass, two cactus, a Castor bean, a Meyer lemon tree and a partridge.  Alright no partridge, but don't you think that would be cool?
I also had a basil plant that I had been nursing along all summer.  Pinching the ends to make it bushy, moving it occasionally to catch more sun.  I knew from past experience that if I just moved it into the greenhouse it would soon just drop all of its leaves and just become a dead twig in a pot.  I'm not sure why it does this, but I wasn't taking any chances this year. 
Sue had asked me recently if I had any recipes for pesto and this summer my Mom had called one day from Maine.  Our garden up there had produced an overabundance of basil and she needed to know how to make pesto.  She also planned on freezing some for later.  I wasn't too sure how that would work, but surprisingly if you aren't a stickler about color (it turns a bit blacker) it does work.  One could pull out a bit of summer from the freezer in February and here in New England that could be a real boost on those days when the sun is only available for what feels like 5 hours.
I really wouldn't call this a recipe per se because it really depends on a few factors that will vary every time you make it.

How strong is your basil?
There are dozens of different types of basil plants.  How it is grown, how old it is when it finally reaches you in a supermarket or Farmer's market, how it was been watered and fed, are all factors in the final taste of the herb.

How salty is your cheese?
I have found that Parmigiano Reggiano and Pecorino Romano vary greatly from manufacturer to manufacturer.  Sure they all must be made from a certain region of Italy to be called by those names.  They also must follow traditional methods as well.  But the sheep and cow's eat different pastureland at different times of the year, the milks have to vary, how old it is when you buy it will mean that it could be drier and a bit more salty as a result.

How cheesy do YOU like your pesto? 
Taste, of course, is a personal thing so use this list of ingredients and technique as a guide to make your own.